


Words, Actions

by JayJ



Series: Golden Moments in the Stream of Life [6]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-07
Updated: 2013-03-07
Packaged: 2017-12-04 14:21:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/711687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JayJ/pseuds/JayJ
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They were sitting together in the back of a yellow cab.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Words, Actions

**Author's Note:**

> I debated how I wanted to present this story cause originally when I posted it, on ff.net, I separated the sections into their own individual chapters becasue I do see them as stand alone stories in themselves. But since here I'm not posting the Golden Moments series as one single story broken into chapters I got worried that people would only read one and not the other and since they are companions pieces that play heavily with parallels I didn't want to take that chance of anyone losing the full experience of reading them. 
> 
> Anyways...felt the need to explain that.
> 
> Please enjoy.
> 
> Minor Spoilers for 2x14

They were sitting together in the back of a yellow cab.

And Emma wasn't really good with words.

They had only just landed in Manhattan and were now on route to the address Gold had specified to the driver. Henry, in his excitement, had insisted that he be allowed to sit in the front, to see all there was to see, while Gold and Emma sat in the back, nether particularly interested in taking in the sights. She'd already been to New York once before and Gold, well, he had other things on his mind.

Her green eyes fall on his injured hand, surveying the bruised knuckles, as she sits next to him.

Emma doesn't really understand this need she has to make him feel better. All day, she's been trying to tell him the words she thinks he wants to hear. But, no matter what she says, Gold seems to shrug off all her attempts at comforting him and instead pointedly tries to ignore her.

It seemed the right words were beyond her capabilities.

Emma dealt in actions, not words. Words could be done up, made to look prettier than they were. Words were lies—white, gray, black—and they were always just, at their core, a subtle form of manipulation. A way of eliciting the response you desire from the person you're saying them to. They had been used against her too often and Emma had spent her whole life being disappointed and betrayed by words. She didn't trust them, and didn't know how to say them in the right way. For all their necessity and purposes, words were essentially meaningless to her.

Actions were what mattered to Emma because action were honest—a bare reflex, impulsive, natural, brutal, purposeful—they always, one way or another, told some form of the truth, even if you didn't always know what that truth was.

Actions were simple.

Yet Emma knew that doing something as small as touching Gold's hand would be a mistake. He was too on edge. Even if the intent was to comfort him Gold would never acknowledge the gesture like that. He'd see it as his weakness made apparent and would likely lash out in some form or manner.

She knew he preferred words, and guarded himself with them. Emma supposes, for him, there was a safety to words—they could protect and hurt and allowed one to remain distant—and he seemed to know how to control them, had a knack for them. He understood the power of the right words; how to twist their purpose if needed or when to simply take them as is.

Words were the way to Gold.

"Things might not go the way you want them to," she blurts out. He tersely looks at her with the annoyance he's been wearing on his face all day but there's also a hint of curiosity at her blunt choice of words. He looks at Emma silently yet expectant.

"I just want you to be prepared for things to not go the way you're hoping they will," she said, anxious and simply saying whatever comes to her, "family reunions have the tendency to get complicated."

Gold remained silently stilted yet his eyes were observant of her; the intensity in his gaze had heightened. Encouraged, Emma continued.

"I know you're…nervous, and you're also probably not in the mood to hear anymore of me trying to be helpful, but I just want to make sure you're in a place where you can handle whatever is about to go down between you and your kid." Emma paused, trying to push the right words forward delicately "Because the reality is, it may not go well. And with everything that's already happened…you need to be ready to deal with that."

She was surprised to see that her words were having an affect; one that didn't involve immediate, or coarse, irritation. Instead, Gold appeared to be contemplating them; a question seemingly forming on the tip of his tongue. Patiently, Emma watched him but remained silent. It was uncommon to see him at such a loss. It humanized him in a way that fascinated her.

Gold hesitated, perhaps trying to decide how to word his question, before summoning up the nerve and simply asking her, "and what do you suppose I can do—to prevent such an outcome?"

"Nothing…" Emma shook her head, blonde hair twirling around her, as she answered earnestly, "there's nothing you can do other than accept the possibility that it'll probably go badly. You can hope for the best but you need to prepare yourself for the worst."

He nods, taking her words in further. Emma pursed her lips, having voiced her opinions and concerns yet not wanting to leave the moment, or Gold, in such a state of unease, she adds,

"Sometimes these sorts of things have to fall apart before they can get better. So don't let it crush you, or dishearten you, if your reunion with your son doesn't go the way you hope it will. It might take time but I truly believe it'll all work out in the end."

"Why are saying this to me? What's the point, your gain from it?" he asked suddenly, flustered by her kind words and suspicious of their intent, of her sincerity.

Emma offered him a small but honest smile, "because no matter what happens I want—I _need_ —you to be okay."

Gold appeared taken aback by her words.

Then he looked at her softly; an intimate suggestion of gratitude.

The candid words she'd given him didn't feel like much, at least to Emma, but to Gold they seemed enough.

And for a brief, fleeting moment, he returned her smile.

\--------------

They were sitting together in the back of a yellow cab, again.

And Gold wasn't really good with actions.

They were heading to the hotel he had prearranged in case their search extended for a few days. And for some reason, beyond even his understanding, Emma had elected to join him. Even against Bealfire's concerned insistence that she need not go anywhere with him and that she was welcome to stay.

But Emma had simply shaken her head; declining his son's offer.

It was Henry who had enthusiastically demanded he be allowed to stay behind; wanting to spend as much time as he could with his newly discovered father. And Gold had seen Emma's resignation then, with the curt quiet nod of her head, conceding to her son's request and allowing him to do so. It seemed, at that point, words had completely abandoned her and Emma was now functioning on basic and numb reflexes.

His dark eyes regarded her quietly, studying her, as he sits next to her.

There's a part of him that knows he is accountable for the state she is currently in. Emma being here had been his doing. He is to blame for it completely. Still, he doesn't quite understand this need that comes over him to offer her comfort. Gold had tried doing so earlier by taking charge of the unresponsive blonde, despite his son's obvious disdain, as they had stepped out of the apartment. Guiding Emma gently, with a hand on the small of her back, they had walked from the apartment, down the hall, out the front doors of the building, and in to the cab he had hailed down for them. Gold had thought, after his hostile behavior towards her earlier, that she would have appreciated the sentiment of his gesture.

But Emma remained passive and solemn, her stance dull, and her eyes unusually vacant. The events and revelations of the day had taken its toll on all of them but it seemed Emma had been particularly devastated and overwhelmed by them.

And it appeared he had absolutely no talent for kind acts.

He dealt in words, not actions. Like magic, words were a crutch. They had become a precaution, a mask, and a fancy display of theatrics that he had perfected over the years. Actions were different; they exposed vulnerabilities and exploited you in all the ways you wanted to hide and keep safe. Actions spoke louder than words and that was always his problem with them. In the past, every time Gold had chosen to act, time after time, it had only ever led to one thing; loss and destruction. His actions had been his downfall. They had cost him everything.

Words were what mattered to Gold—they had always benefited him—once he'd understood that their meaning was always up for interpretation. There intent and uses were in a constant state of flux. And it, conveniently, gave him the advantage he wanted in almost any situation—there was no single truth or function to a spoken word, no matter how or why one chose to say it. But words also had a purpose. When said, they always held value.

Words had complexity and depth.

But he knew Emma preferred actions over words, trusted them more than anything else. Gold couldn't use words with her, not now, not after using them so often to hurt—manipulate, threaten—her. She wouldn't really know how to listen to them from him. Too weary from their constant deceptions to allow herself to even entertain the idea of sincerity. Any words he spoke to her right now would be considered meaningless. Nothing he could say would change that.

Actions were the way to Emma.

And so, purely on a whim, Gold snatches Emma's hand in his own. Her head snaps towards him as he does so; her eyes sparked lively with questioning. He chooses to ignore her. Instead, Gold deftly considers the warmth and the fragile quality of her hand in his. Slowly, unconsciously, he traces his thumb over her palm soothingly; his touch subtle yet attentive.

There must have been a part of Emma that was still weary of him and his callous behavior towards her today because she quickly tries to steal back her hand. Yet, despite her feeble attempts, Gold's grip remains firm; refusing to yield.

She stares plainly at him, her body tense, breathing slowly. Clearly, Emma remains dubious of his actions; unsure how to react to them, perhaps even on edge, due to the unpredictable nature of his temper.

Still, Gold's eyes remain absently fixated on her hand as the impulse and need to continue trying to calm her encourages him further. Hesitantly, he raises it up and towards him. Ever so slowly, Gold kisses it, brushing his lips against her knuckles. Unintentionally, he savors the heated sensation of having her skin against him.

His considerate yet achingly sensual touch seems to have the desired effect on her as Emma's tension and doubt finally eases away from her. She leisurely begins to settle down; her body relaxing and brushing against his as she leaned back.

Then, once he had indulged himself of her, Gold simply guides her hand back down to rest against his thigh as his other hand falls upon them; effectively trapping and cradling her hand in both of his. It was a clear indication that he had no desire or intention of letting it go for the remainder of the cab ride.

Emma looked taken aback yet relieved by his actions.

Then she tightens her hand around Gold's.

His genuine act of consoling her had not seemed like much, at least not to Gold, but to Emma it felt like enough.

And for a brief, fleeting moment, they finally allowed themselves to take comfort in one another.


End file.
